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Who Knows The Day.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

When truth takes hold, behold the light

When life’s true bride’s reborn

There’ll be no tears, no more night

Beyond the last day’s dawn


When Heaven’s door will open wide

Above this world of fear

God will be calling “Come inside”

As Jesus’ cloud draws near


Will you my friend, be with me there?

With those known to The Christ

Where faith receives grace to share

Through Jesus sacrificed


As Son, that death would surely die

As Lamb, life’s curse, to cease

Life’s blood, children, to rise on high

Endless, to live in peace


Seek Jesus, while time is at hand

While grace is abound

Learn life, truly to understand

The Way to holy ground


Take in your hand, and read The Book

God penned for you and me

Within your soul then take a look

Of all, you there can see


Seek here, there, every place

Each day and every night

Darkness will never see God’s face

Just hearts washed brilliant white


Be wise, make right, to come, my friend,

Be rid of all life’s sins

Who knows when the last day will end?

And endless day begins.....

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Submitted: Sunday, November 4, 2018

Last Updated: Sunday, November 4, 2018

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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